Rilian's Crown
by Nicola4Sparkle
Summary: Prince Rilian has returned to Narnia. Still reeling from his father's death and the horror of his long enchantment, he is resistant to the nobles' desire to crown him king immediately. A beautiful friend from his past and the promise of a love to come will give him the encouragement he needs to fulfill the destiny he was created for. One-shot, post The Silver Chair.


Rilian's Crown

Rated: T (just in case for attraction only)

Summary: Prince Rilian has returned to Narnia. Still reeling from his father's death and the horror of his long enchantment, he is resistant to the nobles' desire to crown him king immediately. A beautiful friend from his past and the promise of a love to come will give him the encouragement he needs to fulfill the destiny he was created for. One-shot, post The Silver Chair. Rilian/OC

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She opened the door, the sound of weeping echoed in the empty hall. She slipped inside feeling like an intruder...and she was.

"I apologize, Prince Rilian, Your Highness, but they sent me...it is time for the coronation ceremony."

The man standing in the pool of sunlight by the closed window stiffened at her words. He brushed his hands across his eyes and whirled around to confront the interloper. He stopped suddenly as if she were not who he was expecting.

"And why did they send you?" he asked harshly.

This was not the Rilian she remembered. That Rilian was bold, but kind. But, his grief was still so raw. He had just buried his father, King Caspian the 10th, yesterday only having seen the old king for a brief moment before he passed. And, after being kept in captivity under an evil enchantment for ten years, they now expected him to be an instant king. She understood why he was refusing, but she also knew that their kingdom needed a leader...needed his leadership.

She sucked in her breath as he looked at her. It was the first she had seen him up close since his return. He was even more handsome that she remembered. His fair hair and his hazel eyes, that tended to change color with his moods, were the same. But, gone was the soft jaw of the palace-bred youth, and in its place a new strength of character. His eyes narrowed, as he stared at her. Did he recognize her?

"I...volunteered. My father was planning to come, but I thought...well, I wanted to see you again before you became king.

"I suppose," he said with a bored sigh, trying to cover the evidence of being caught in his grief with haughtiness. "You will have to tell me who you are. You look familiar, but so does everyone else. I am tired of trying to figure out who people are and who I am to them."

She paused, not knowing how to explain herself.

"Well..." he demanded impatiently.

"My name is Aliyanna, Your Highness. We were friends...once."

"Aliyanna?" realization dawned on his face, "You and I...used to shoot arrows and race horses."

She laughed, a deep rich sound that echoed pleasantly in the hall, his face softened. He stepped closer to her.

She had been eight when she and her father moved to the castle. Her mother died the year before and King Caspian kindly invited her father to be a part of his court. Bored and frustrated at being clucked over and 'mothered' by the ladies of the court, she had begged her father for relief. The good man had relented and allowed her to train in archery and learn to ride.

"You look...different, very different! How old are you now?" he asked, curious.

She laughed again, "I hope I look different! I was a scrawny little thing with eyes too large and unruly hair worn in tight braids." Softly, almost shyly, she answered his question, "I am twenty-four years, sire."

She watched him study her. She knew she was not a beauty by any means, but the mirror told her that she was no longer scrawny. She had learned to control the curls in her black hair and she wore it full and free around her shoulders. Her eyes were blue like the color of the ocean, so she had been told. The suitors her father paraded before her were always looking at her with admiration and were quite complimentary. She almost smirked at those memories.

"I am surprised you are not married by now..." he mused.

She sighed, it was like he had read her thoughts, "It has not been due to a lack of suitors. My father seems to create them."

It was only due to her strong will and her father's indulgence of her that she had not married. She refused to marry for anything but love and her heart had always belonged to another...to a prince.

He seemed to not have heard her, and interrupted her thoughts, "Let's see, I was about fourteen when we first met on the archery course. I remember you almost shot my hand."

She flushed both at the embarrassing memory and at the fact that he remembered her well. An unlikely pair of playmates, they had trained and competed together. Finding in each other kindred spirits, not content to stay in the castle, they spent four carefree years being the best of friends...

"Why did we not continue shooting arrows and racing horses?" he asked, trying to remember.

"You turned turned eighteen, sire. You began your training and preparation for the crown and my father...decided it was time for me to become a lady."

"Posh!" he exclaimed. She looked at him in surprise. "A lady is much more interesting if she can shoot an arrow from a moving horse."

She grinned at that recollection and wished for those carefree days once more. They ended too soon. The last time she saw him, she was fourteen and he was twenty. A grown man, a handsome prince, noble and strong, but one who still spared a smile for the awkward teenager when they would pass in the corridor.

She had ached for him when his mother died, but could have no more approached him, than she could have sprouted wings and took flight. Part of her went away when he disappeared and she never had been able to feel whole again, even since his miraculous return.

He was grinning too, but then a shadow crossed his face and he turned back toward the windows. She wondered about the shadow and was pleased when he shared his thoughts.

"They don't understand! I am not ready to be king. I spent ten years without really seeing the sun, without my friends, my family..." his voice broke again. He took a deep breath and continued, "Without my life! Can they not...give me more time?"

"You speak as if your life were going to end when you become king. Why not look at it like a beginning, a new beginning?"

"A beginning? Of what...meetings and diplomacy, hours of holding court, mountains of paperwork?"

"Paperwork?" she echoed, astounded. "You are complaining about paperwork? What about freedom? Freedom to be who you want to be, to make laws to keep others free as well. Without a ruler, this kingdom will be lost. It is your kingdom! You above all people know what it is to be lost and then found. Will you not keep your subjects free and found also?"

"I can never be the king that my father was! Why should I even try?" bitterness filled his voice.

"But, Rilian... I mean, Your Highness, why should you try to be like your father? That would be...impossible!"

She watched his face fall at her words, he thought she was confirming his insecurities. Before he could respond she continued in a soft voice that she hoped would reach him.

"You only need to be Rilian! To be as good as Rilian can be, no one else, just yourself."

As her words sunk in, his eyes cleared and confidence brightened his face. "I do remember your being quite spunky, outspoken, and not letting me win even when I commanded you," he teased.

She blushed, "I have never been one to give up easily, my Prince."

She flushed more deeply, she didn't intend to say 'my' and the soft tone had come from her heart and not her head.

He stepped close enough to touch her, looking at her quizzically. She was having trouble breathing and sought solace by looking at her feet.

She felt a soft touch on her chin, he lifted her face and looked deeply into her eyes, his were a mesmerizing blue-green. She tried not to tremble at his touch but she was certain he could see how much he affected her.

"If I were to be king, and have this 'freedom' as you describe it. That would mean that my free time would be my own. Would you consent to ride with me, once I am king?"

Her smile was wobbly, but her eyes, intent on his, also held a hint of teasing, "Only if you let me have a head start, so I could win!"

He threw his head back and laughed and she thrilled at the sound. His laugh caused the empty place inside of her to begin to fill again.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I concede," he said with a wide smile. But, then his face grew sober, and his eyes worried, "If I go out there, among all those staring, prying eyes, will you be there too?"

"Yes...if you want me," the words slipped out before she could take them back.

She gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth, realizing too late how her statement could be misconstrued. She really must think more before she spoke, especially to the Crown-Prince.

He only smiled and touched her cheek. He gently removed the hand covering her mouth and held it in his large warm hand. His soft touch sent tingles through her. He moved closer and the look in his eyes turned to... Her own eyes closed involuntarily, but then she stepped back quickly.

It was too soon, and he was too vulnerable. She knew there would be many beautiful women vying for his time and attention. Women much more well suited to be a queen than she. She would spare both of them the embarrassment of a moment that she desired, but that would need to be forgotten and would be a painful reminder of what might have been.

She looked at him apologetically. He nodded and said, "Well, I'd best get to it...before they send in Puddleglum. Walk with me?"

She agreed and they went into the corridor that led to the Great Hall. When they came to the doors he looked at her and said, "After you, my lady"

She flushed, "No sire, tradition dictates you must enter the hall on your own."

He frowned, "Of course. But you will be in the crowd?"

She smiled a breathless smile, feeling trembly in his presence once again but knowing he desperately needed a friend. She managed a whispered, "I would not miss it, Your Highness."

As he flung open the doors she saw him look at the waiting crowd. His shoulders straighted, his brow cleared and his head rose. The noble prince, who was lost for so long and now was found, stood before his populace ready to be king, ready to stand for freedom and to continue the reign of Narnia that his father began so long ago. And the girl, who loved him, watched them place the crown on his head knowing that her heart would be his forever.


End file.
